Resolution
by Imogen74
Summary: The obvious outcome for the previous two installments of the story of Inas Inverness. You really need to read "Dark at the End of the Day" & "A New Day Dawns" to fully get this.
1. Chapter 1

"Seeds came soft & lulled the air to sweet sleep.  
Hues that filled the humid air christened it blue & green.  
Slow the drops filled my sight & made the scene atomic with sound expansive & yellow.  
I kneaded the soil & turned my sight upward…  
Frilled with spring the seeds gave shape to wet air, & the grey cloud became visible in the three o'clock sun.  
The seeds of my dandelion took to the sky, they became the wet &  
It rained."  
Inas was displeased with this poem. More often than not, her poems were epic, long, vivid. Occasionally she dabbled with near rhyme, but it wasn't her immediate inclination. She found it juvenile. But this, this was full of color & light. It was from a dream she had had. It seemed to be borne of some deep unknown parts that she had long forgotten. From Derbyshire, perhaps. Why she would suddenly begin to muse about that, she hardly knew.

"It was hardly difficult. She knew he had taken a lover. Why else would her home be a mess?"  
"It was a mess because she hadn't time to tidy up? That seems much more plausible."  
"Not when one has obsessive compulsive disorder."  
Sherlock Holmes & John Watson entered 221B arguing over the case just closed. Inas Inverness looked up from her notebook. She had taken to writing out longhand since she had purchased a desktop. She preferred to remain mobile. Sherlock couldn't fathom why she didn't compose on her phone. If his phone could meet all of his demanding requirements, surely it could meet hers.  
"What are the two of you going on about?"  
John smiled at Inas. He liked the poet very much. She seemed much more capable than he was at keeping the detective in check. "Looking lovely..." His voice trailed off, & he stared at her. Sherlock entered the room.  
"Here John. I made this." John took the cup of coffee, his mouth agape.  
"Hang on. Hang the bloody hell on! What the hell is going on? You're making coffee, & you! You're wearing jeans!"  
Sherlock waved dismissively.  
"Inas has decided to expand her color pallet to include denim. Hardly worth such fuss. And I wanted coffee. I'm perfectly capable of brewing it. More than capable, I should think."  
"Yes, but...blue! Blue! I've never seen her in anything but black. Ever."  
"You may address me, Dr. Watson. I'm perfectly capable of answering any question you might have concerning my person."  
John looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Inas. You're right. What has brought about this change?"  
"Well, I'm not sure, exactly. I found these at the East End Thrift Store, & thought, why not? Do they not suit me?"  
She stood up so that the pair might get a better look at the jeans. John looked & gulped. "Er...no. They look really fine. Better than fine. You look..."  
Sherlock stopped him. "Don't embarrass yourself, John. You look well enough, Inas. How's the poetry?"  
Inas took her seat. The men followed suit. "Well, honestly, I'm at a bit of a loss. I wrote this yesterday, & it seems, not ... right."  
"I sense a pattern." Sherlock was studying his flat mate.  
Inas rolled her eyes. "You would."  
"You've admitted confusion twice in the last five minutes. That's not like you. Hence, an intriguing pattern."  
She took the offensive. "How's Molly, Sherlock? Been to Bart's today?"  
John shot a glance at Sherlock. "What's this? What about Molly?"  
Sherlock sighed heavily. "Nothing about Molly. Inas was merely attempting to divert attention from her."  
"Hardly. But I'll go no further. No need to press tiresome subjects that involve cadavers." Inas smiled at Sherlock & cleared her throat. She turned to John. "Is he paying you regularly? I'd keep a journal, if I were you."  
The three laughed together. Inas got up & retreated to the kitchen, where she began to cook dinner. She hummed a tune. John & Sherlock talked & laughed in the sitting room. Inas thought, "This is very nearly perfect. This is what I've always wanted. This...& yet, something is wanting..."


	2. Chapter 2

Molly was rummaging through her desk. She wasn't the tidiest person, & often experienced great pains in attempting to locate things she misplaced. She was trying to find the report from a case closed a fortnight ago. She hated when Mike would ask her for things that were more than a week old.  
What Molly was thinking about, if she was honest, was that Sherlock Holmes had asked her to lunch four times in as many weeks. It was always pretty random, but he always asked, & always paid. She was asking herself if these were dates. Honestly, she didn't think so, but she longed for them to be. He had said something about making things right, but she thought he had done that with the coffee so many months previous. No, there was something else, but she couldn't be sure what, & was deeply afraid to think further. As much as she longed for him to reciprocate her feelings, she was equally terrified.

Molly had returned to her flat, showered, & had begun her dinner. Toby, her tabby cat nuzzled in next to her. She was about to turn on her laptop when her mobile rang out a receipt of text.  
"Are you available to talk?"  
It was from Sherlock.  
"Yes," was her reply.  
Immediately her phone rang.  
"Not bothering you, I trust?"  
"No. Just tucking in to some dinner. What's going on?"  
"Molly, I need a favor."  
Great. The exact words she dreaded yet always heard from this man's mouth.  
"What is it?"  
"Would you mind terribly...would you ask Inas out for coffee? I think she needs...a friend."  
"This has become a bit of a habit with you. Aren't you friends?"  
"I suppose, for lack of a better word. But I don't think I'm what she...requires."  
Molly had a sinking feeling. She needed a woman. Why? Because she needed to talk about men. The only man Molly knew of in Inas's life was talking to her on the phone.  
"I dunno, Sherlock. I hardly know her. What could she need to say to me?"  
"Not sure. But it appears that, she needs, well, an ear to bend."  
Molly shifted in her seat.  
"Alright Sherlock. Ok. How should I do this?"

Inas's phone rang a text alert. It was from a number unfamiliar to her. She looked at the message.  
"Fancy some coffee? Molly"  
Inas frowned. She went downstairs.  
"Sherlock?"  
"Hm?" The detective was peering at his laptop.  
"What are you doing?"  
"Research. I'm examining which prescription drugs cause hallucinations when coupled with..."  
"No. Not your damn research. Why is Molly Hooper texting me?"  
"Ah."  
"Ah. Yes. That. I repeat. What are you doing?"  
"Well...you appear out of sorts. It puts me off. I thought if you had someone to talk to..."  
"It puts you off. It puts you effing off?!"  
"No need to get excited. Decline the invitation."  
"Already have. But really. My mood puts you off. How absolutely hysterical. You of all people..."  
Inas turned & stormed upstairs. She thought she had been in a fine mood. But, truth be known, she wasn't herself, good mood notwithstanding.  
Sherlock Holmes had better watch himself. Sending his lovelorn pathologist after her mood would yield nothing good.


	3. Chapter 3

Inas laid awake most of the night. It wasn't unusual for her to have a sleepless night, but there was something quite specific about her restlessness. What was bothering her? Why was she writing that poem? Wearing jeans? Jeans, for gods sake. She had no answers, & it bothered her immensely, both because she hadn't any answers, & because she was behaving in such ways.  
At about 4:30 am, she decided to go downstairs & have a smoke. She had in her black nightdress, decided that would do, & headed out.

"Knew you'd be down eventually."  
"What's this? You've no case on."  
Sherlock wouldn't admit that he had felt badly, & wanted to see if she was feeling any better.  
She grabbed the cigarettes from her bag & sat down opposite her flat mate.  
"I've quit again, you know."  
"As have I."  
Sherlock Holmes raised an eyebrow at the cigarette.  
"Well, I've taken it under consideration. I'm considering it."  
The two sat a moment.  
"I...you're right. I've been behaving in odd ways. The jeans, the poem..."  
"What poem? The one you're displeased with?"  
"Just so. I cannot make it out. I'm quite at a loss."  
"Will you allow me to read it?"  
Inas got up, albeit a bit hesitantly, & handed quit to Sherlock. His eyebrows slowly crept up his forehead.  
"It's not that bad."  
Inas was a bit hurt. She knew it wasn't her usual brilliance, but surely it didn't warrant such a reaction.  
"Well, it's very different."  
She yanked the book from his hand, & instantly regretted it. She was behaving in a most absurd manner. Why did it matter if he liked it? He hardly ever read poetry. He only went to the pub to hear her sing if John wanted to go. But something seethed inside if her. How dare he judge her art! What did he know about it?  
"You're upset."  
Inas nodded the affirmative. No need to lie & make the situation even more ridiculous.  
"As you are well aware, poetry is not my...thing. It may be that this is your masterpiece. I'd never know. But I've read some of your...writing, & it's nothing like this."  
"I dislike your tone," she was, in truth, reading too much into it. "Why should I listen to the opinion of a self-proclaimed ignoramus on anything remotely artistic? Nay - beautiful?"  
"Did you just say 'nay'?"  
"I did! It's what one does, when one has this gift. With your gift, one flits around town, insulting as many people as possible. One ignores that which most treasure. One remains a virgin until they're scraping your old, withered body from a solitary bed."  
Inas bit her lip. She had gone too far.  
"I mean...I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."  
"You're wrong. Well, about some of it. I don't ignore which most treasure, at least, not so much any longer. And I'm not a virgin."  
"Liar."  
"I'm not. It matters but little if you believe me. I haven't had much experience in that...area, but I'm not wholly without that particular...enjoyment."  
Inas looked perplexed. She was so certain...  
"You need a holiday. You are not yourself. Go to Derbyshire. It will set you right."  
"Why Derbyshire? It's curious you should suggest that in particular."  
"Why not? It's lovely. It's your childhood home. You should go, Inas. I'll be here when you return."  
Sherlock had stood up, & brushed his hand against her cheek.  
"Thank you." Inas was smiling. "I wish I could say something witty, but you've rendered me speechless."  
"Now, if that's not a topic for epic poetry, then I don't know what is." Sherlock went into the kitchen to make some coffee. Inas was looking out onto Baker Street where the rising sun had caused drops of dew to sparkle red & orange. Derbyshire would be lovely. She needed out of her head. She was noticing the dew instead of the black asphalt underneath. Something was definitely amiss.


	4. Chapter 4

"Where's Inas?" John Watson entered the flat. The text he received was strange, "need you at Baker Street. Stop talking to Mary & come immediately."  
"Derbyshire."  
"Why? Did you chuck her out?"  
"Don't be ridiculous."  
"She left then, screaming in horror?"  
"She's on holiday. She needs a break."  
"From writing?"  
"No...a bit more complicated. I think...I think she needs to understand what it means not to be sad & angry."  
"Wow. You figured that, did you? Impressive."  
"I needed to figure a few things after the Fall. This isn't wholly different. It's just taken Inas a bit longer, but that's to be expected. She suffered much longer."  
"You're something, Sherlock Holmes. Just when I abandon all hope for you, you go & astound me."  
Sherlock smirked at his friend. "I understand her quite well. Shouldn't be so shocking that I surmised she needed a holiday. But it is strange without her here. Different, than say, when you went off with your distraction."  
"That's enough. Mary is much more than a distraction, & you know it. Why did you text me?"  
Sherlock began to outline the case that he discovered in his email that morning. Missing man, wife distraught. Police inept. Child's play.

Inas was on her way home. At least, that's what she told herself. In truth, she was leaving her home, & off to foreign lands. She had reserved a room at a bed & breakfast. She was nervous. She was excited. And for the first time in some months, she was alone.  
At the train station Inas retrieved her bags & found herself a cab. She gave the cabbie her address, & by the time she arrived at the large B&B, she was exhausted. She decided to have a nap.  
She dreamed vividly. Full of color & broad daylight. She dreamed of windswept fields, berry patches, & deep woods.  
She awoke and thought, "like a page from Tolkien." She smiled & readied herself for dinner.

Molly was lamenting the fact that Sherlock hadn't been by the morgue all week. She was tired of waiting for him. Tired of the constant second guessing. Exhausted by his code-like behavior. She decided that perhaps she'd approach John about it. Yes, the next time they were there, she would find a way to talk with John privately.  
She didn't need to wait long. The next evening, Sherlock swept into the morgue looking curiously angry. John was hurrying along in his wake.  
"Molly, I need a look at a body."  
Molly was taken aback, & resumed her usual nervous stammer she had so recently, thankfully, shed when around the detective.  
"I...erm...which do you need?"  
"Horace Twyning. Should've arrived not half an hour ago."  
"Oh, yes. The one with the funny name."  
Sherlock steadily looked at the pathologist. She looked back. Looked at John.  
"Oh! I suppose, since he is fresh, I can go & get him for you."  
Sherlock smiled, looked at John. Rolled his eyes.  
"I think is should be fairly easy, John. Only two possibilities."  
Molly returned & gestured for the pair to follow her. When John passed, she tugged at his sleeve. "Can I have a word?" she whispered.  
"Uh...sure. Gimme a moment."  
Molly was waiting patiently in the hall, twirling her hair & biting her lip. John emerged a few minutes later.  
"What's going on?"  
"I...uh...well, I was wondering if anything was going on with Sherlock."  
"Something's always going on with Sherlock. You'll need to be more specific."  
"Well, I...we were having lunch lately. And then, then, it just stopped. I mean, it was once a week or so...& now it's been over two...& you haven't really been here..."  
"Well, I can't say for certain. The case load has been light. There was some business with Inas..."  
"Business? What do you mean?"  
"She was out of sorts. I believe Sherlock suggested she go on holiday. So, she's been gone a couple of days now."  
"Oh." That was all Molly could get out. Sherlock emerged from inside the examination area with a smug look.  
"Well, he obviously fell. Not pushed, as Mrs. Twyning insisted. There were no markings to suggest any sort of altercation. Of course, since the Yard swept him away with his clothes, it's a touch more difficult...but then, one should expect no less...what's wrong?"  
"Wrong?" Molly & John replied in unison.  
"Wrong. Yes. Something's amiss. What is it?"  
"Bet." John hurried with the lie. "How long you'd take until you solved it."  
"Ah. Who won?"  
"Molly."  
Molly blushed. "I..."  
"Well done. John, coming?"  
The two exited in haste leaving Molly still standing there with her thoughts. She had no idea what to make of it all.


	5. Chapter 5

John Watson loved Sherlock Holmes, make no mistake. The good doctor was pretty sure Sherlock loved him, too. He knew he loved Mrs. Hudson, who behaved very much as a mother would. He knew he cared deeply for Greg Lestrade. Mycroft, John felt, didn't receive much notice from Sherlock, for many reasons, none of which he completely understood, or indeed, wish to understand. Two people, then, whom Sherlock was close with, remained. Inas & Molly. They were, admittedly, quite different. John secretly wished that one of them might serve as a romantic interest for the detective. He wasn't sure which, though. Inas was so...damaged. Molly was so, fragile. He thought that that evening, when they were reviewing the case, he might bring it up to him. Why not? They were friends, after all.  
Sherlock had begun to play his violin. He had been quite often, since Inas was away.  
"Sherlock."  
"Hm?"  
"Can we talk?"  
He put down his bow. "I don't like the sound of this."  
"How do you feel about Molly?"  
"So. This is what the two of you were whispering about."  
"No. No we weren't. But I'm curious. Inas has hinted..."  
"I don't know. It's a strange thing. I...am not able to convey it properly."  
"Do you fancy her?"  
"Excuse me?"  
"Are you smitten? Feel warmly towards her?"  
"No. I'm not smitten, as you so eloquently put. No...truth be told, I simply don't know. When I'm around her, I feel...safe. But I don't think much beyond that."  
"And inas?"  
"What?"  
"Do you feel safe around her?"  
"No. More like...I need to protect her."  
"I see. How do you feel about her?"  
"John. I really don't see any point..."  
"Answer the question, Sherlock. Grow up."  
Sherlock sat down in the arm chair. He looked at the ceiling & sighed heavily. Began rubbing his ear with his bow.  
"I know what you expect me to say. You expect me to confess some mad love for her or something preposterous. Well, that's not the case. It's a strange dynamic that we share, & I can't make you understand."  
"Try me."  
He sighed again, & longed for a cigarette. "We are the same person. We share a mutual understanding. We are...I don't know. The same. No other way to describe it."  
"You aren't in love with her?"  
"I'm not."  
"You're fairly narcissistic, I wouldn't put it past you."  
"You're very kind. But no."  
"Are you attracted to her?"  
"I don't think about it."  
"You are less of a man than I thought. I think about it, & I'm in love with Mary."  
"I do not wish for you to reveal whatever sexual fantasies you possess about Inas. Not interested, sorry. But you may find an audience on your blog."  
Sherlock stood up & began to play the violin again.  
"You should ask her out."  
He stopped. "What? Ask who out, & why?"  
"Whomever you thought of the second after I asked you, & because Sherlock, you need to grow up. This is part of it. You need to come down from your tower, or out from behind your wall, or whatever, & live a little. I see you've grown a bit. I've noticed. But there's more to life than what you've built. I know you're happier than you were. Think about it, think about what life could be like if you could really share it. You ought to take that leap. Figuratively, now. Complete the cycle."  
John got up & left to go home to Mary. He loved her dearly, & longed to see her.

Sherlock was left alone with the words of John Watson hanging in the air of the flat like the smoke from one of Inas's cigarettes. He dismissed them at the outset. He scoffed at them a bit later. When he became fatigued & done with the violin, he reflected on his last speech. A diatribe, really. Perhaps he had a point. Much as he was loathe to admit it, perhaps he was being stubborn. Yes, he would think on it a bit longer. He would think, & then, if he deemed it worthy, take John's advice.


	6. Chapter 6

Inas walked along the market, gazing here & there at the wares being sold. It was true, this week in Derbyshire had proven itself just the tonic needed to sort out her thoughts. Inas had changed. She had grown to realize that the world held immense beauty, something that she had heretofore not appreciated. This new vision of life, this appreciation, held her captive & intoxicated her. This explained the dreams, the poem, the need for less black (though she'd never abandon it entirely).  
She had visited her childhood home & cried. She spoke with Mrs. Wigginton, & cried once more. It was a closure like she had never known. So, when she was at the market, & ran into Mr. Jones, she was thrilled.  
"Good afternoon, Mr. Jones! How wonderful to see you!"  
"Jane Eliot? By all that's holy! You're alive! And grown!"  
Inas smiled, & corrected him in calling her Jane. He seemed perplexed, so she let it be. Mr. Jones had, on occasion, aided her father on the farm. He lived a few miles down the road.  
They walked over to a cafe, ordered coffee, & began to talk about things in the village.  
"So much has happened! Children born, old folk dead, marriages, new businesses. Why are you here? Never thought I'd see you alive again. Such a tragedy..."  
"Well, I decided it was time. Time to see the place. I'm so glad that I did."  
"You're a gem, dear. After all that happened. After your father...well, you know."  
"My father was bankrupt, Mr. Jones. I hardly blame him."  
"Aye. Bankrupt. Guess that's why he sold you."  
Inas froze. "Pardon?"  
"Well, to be sure. I don't believe he reckoned that that would happen. Everyone being slaughtered as they were. But you're a good girl, able to forgive & remember the good."  
"Sorry. You'll excuse me...I need to..."  
She faltered, she stumbled, she nearly fainted.  
"Are you alright love? I didn't upset you?"  
"No. I need to get going. Pleasure, Mr. Jones." Inas held out her hand to shake his. That's when everything went black.

She awoke in hospital. Sterile, white, cold & alone. She desperately needed a cigarette. Inas slowly sat up, noticed the I.V. in her arm, & began dislodging it. Without much effort, she got up out of the bed with the intent to dress. Shocked to see the denim jeans & grey shirt, she found her handbag & rummaged through it for her clothes. Surely, these weren't hers. No matter. She could just as easily leave in the hospital gown & buy some proper clothes in the square. She left, & as she did, she heard some people calling after her by some vaguely familiar name - Jane something. She left & found her way to the shop, purchased some black pants, a black top, black boots. There. That's better. Inas went into the loo to fix her makeup. She found the cigarettes at the bottom of the bag, it seemed like a new pack, & left the shop.  
She smoked deeply. Refreshing. Curious that something so toxic could refresh her so. Inas checked her mobile. Three messages, five texts. Oh, well. No matter. Probably from Sherlock, seeing where she was. She needed to get back & write, anyway. So much to say...  
The train ride was quick, probably because it was the last leaving Derbyshire. It wouldn't reach London until about 11pm. She had her bags, her phone, her cigarettes at the ready. The cabbie seemed to pluck her out of the crowd at London station, & she provided the address.  
As she exited, she shook at the thought of inhaling the nicotine. She ran up the steps, ready to light it...  
"Curious you're so late."  
Sherlock Holmes was standing at the window overlooking Baker Street. He had obviously just put his violin down. The room was dark, his face hidden in shadow. Inas Inverness stood in the doorway, & lit her cigarette.


	7. Chapter 7

Inas didn't answer immediately. She smiled & took her usual seat opposite Sherlock's armchair. She wanted to relish the cigarette, despite the fact that she'd smoked only a short while ago. She felt she needed it, craved it more than ever.  
"Why is it curious?"  
"Because you extended your trip by four days, & then clamber in at midnight. Illogical. It would have made more sense to stay another night. Something must have happened."  
Sherlock was sitting now, & took a smoke from Inas's pack. He had quit, but it was irresistible.  
"That's not what's curious."  
"No?"  
"No."  
"Indulge my curiosity."  
"It's curious that you are up & waiting for my arrival. It's curious that you quit smoking, & yet there you are, puffing away. It's curious that you were playing your violin so late, when you know it keeps Mrs. Hudson awake."  
"I'm often awake at this hour. It would've been odd to discover me to be asleep."  
Inas didn't answer. Something was brewing deep inside her bowels. She hated Sherlock Holmes at that moment, sitting there, smug & brilliant & solemn. Never hurting, never yearning, never been beaten by anything. A machine, not a man.  
Sherlock reciprocated Inas's stare. He knew something had happened. He could tell. Something from her past, perhaps? She was in a mood, however, & he didn't wish to upset her further.  
"I never clamber," was what she chose to say.  
"No. No, I don't suppose you do. What happened Inas? Is everything quite alright?"  
The poet was stoic. She put out her cigarette.  
Sherlock wished she would say something. He searched his mind to come up with anything that might entice her to speak. Nothing. Then, he noticed she was shaking.  
"Inas?"  
She buried her face in her hands, & sobbed.

Inas found herself on the sofa at 221B. Sunlight was streaming in from the windows. Someone was making noise in the kitchen. Panic set in. Was she clothed? Yes. She was fully clothed, only her shoes were off. A blanket was wrapped tightly around her. She sat up.  
"Hello?"  
Sherlock emerged, new clothing, freshly pressed, looking as he always did.  
"Coffee? I've gotten quite good at it, you know."  
"Thank you, yes."  
Inas shook off the blanket & got up, rubbing her eyes. She fully remembered Derbyshire. Every beautiful ugly thing that transpired. She wasn't quite herself when she left. Most likely in shock.  
Sherlock came out holding two cups.  
"Feeling better?"  
"I am. Yes. Sherlock...I'm very sorry about last night. I wasn't...myself."  
"Sit down, Inas."  
She sat, unsure of his tone.  
"You haven't been yourself for quite a while now. It's time for you to explain. I'm certain it's not as complicated as you imagine it to be."  
Inas swallowed. "You're quite right. It's only fair." She breathed deeply. "I believe it began when McBride was apprehended, & I felt safe. Safe. For the first time in ages. I began to see things differently. Notice the beauty of life...I know it's silly. But, I can't explain it any other way. I was happy, for the first time in twenty years. I didn't know how to behave. I realized all of this in Derbyshire, realized it just when..." her eyes welled again, & Sherlock shifted in his seat. "I happened upon an old man I knew all those years ago...& he told me...my father..." she was choking on her words "...he was selling me. That's why I was spared. They killed my family just...because. They were there for me, because my dad, he was selling me. He was selling me." Her entire body shook with the truth of it. "I was not unlike any of those girls...I thought I was. I thought I was loved. But I was dispensable. And dispense with me he did." She wept openly.  
Sherlock Holmes looked at his hands. He thought he wanted to comfort her, but something held him back.  
"Inas...I'm not sure what I can say."  
"Nothing. Nothing to say. I'll be fine. Back to my old self..."  
"Yes."  
"Yes. And everything will go on as it had been. It will be alright. I'll stop wearing jeans. We will play duets."  
"Duets."  
"And John will marry Mary. You will love Molly. I shall take care of Mrs. Hudson. We will be a happy family."  
"Quite."  
"Sherlock?"  
"Hm?"  
"None of that will happen, will it?"  
He rose from his chair, returning from his reverie from the past few moments. He hadn't actually heard much of what she was saying.  
"Inas, there is nothing I can do or say to help you. I'm at an utter loss. I wish..." He stopped. He stopped because she had stood. And there, in the pale morning, she wrapped her arms around him & buried her face in his chest. He moved his arms so that one hand was on the back of her head, the other, stroking her back. He lowered his face to touch the dark red curls on her head, closed his eyes, & sighed.

She pulled away first.  
"You should go. Talk to her."  
Sherlock smiled. He put on his overcoat & left the flat.  
Inas went upstairs to pack her things.


	8. Chapter 8

Sherlock Holmes didn't get far. He had every intention to go to Bart's & talk to Molly. Tell her that he cared about her. Promise to treat her with more compassion, care, attention. He wanted to tell her all of those things. He felt awful about his treatment of her & for the first time in his life, he felt guilty. He would tell her those things. He would. He would hold her & tell her.  
But first, he needed to go back to the flat.  
He burst into Baker Street.  
"Inas? Inas!"  
"What is it? Why aren't you at Bart's?"  
"You're here."  
"I am, yes."  
"But you were going to leave."  
"Yes."  
Sherlock ran his hand through his hair & began to pace. Inas stood quite still, watching.  
"You cannot leave - I told you before. It won't do."  
"Won't do?"  
"Not at all."  
"Why ever not?"  
"Because! Because I need...I need to think about this damnable situation."  
"Excuse me? What situation?"  
"This! This whole thing!"  
He was gesticulating vigorously, & his pace had quickened.  
"I'm not following."  
"Am I making sense? I hardly know..."  
"Not particularly. Look, Sherlock. I need to go. You need to go & see Molly Hooper & tell her how you feel. Now go to it."  
"No."  
"Pardon?"  
"I'm not going." He took off his coat & pouted.  
"Well. I could see that a mile away. Sherlock Holmes deciding to pout because he looks foolish & not getting his way. What's the matter?"  
"I can't tell Molly how I feel, because I don't know. I have never paid attention to feelings. I'm not about to start with Molly Hooper."  
"Well, then. Where shall you start? John? I'll fetch your phone."  
"No."  
"I'm tired, Sherlock. Tired. I'm tired of the 'no's'. Tired of the pacing. I want a cigarette. Can't we get on with this, already? Isn't it time?"  
"Well past time, I should think."  
"Quite. Then lets..."  
And then, without her realizing anything had happened, they were embracing. His mouth eagerly on hers, & Inas, this time, reciprocated passionately.

"You are loved." He whispered in her ear.  
They hadn't gotten any further than one, blissfully intense kiss. And Inas had stopped it. She needed some space, from him, from herself. She needed a smoke.  
She went over to her viola & picked it up. Slowly, a tune emerged, quiet at first, but increasing in intensity & vigor. She finished, & set it down.  
She went & lit a cigarette, sat down on the sofa, & looked at the tall, dark haired man standing by fireplace, hands in pockets. She was slightly surprised he was still there. He appeared sad, a touch angry, & had an intensity in his eyes that made Inas ever so slightly wary to speak.  
"Why did you do that?"  
He didn't answer.  
"I'm not sure what to make of this, Sherlock. I thought, I believed you had feelings for Molly. She saved you. You said so yourself. I believe you meant that in a slightly more than literal fashion. Was I wrong?"  
"Evidently."  
"So...what then? You don't care for her? After all the pains you & I went through to convince everyone we were simply flat mates, now you're going to retract it all? And what of me, & what I want? You haven't considered this."  
"There's a bit going on in what you just said." He moved closer to her. "I haven't the slightest idea what to say about most of it. I care for Molly a very great deal. I mean to show her. The rest...well. This is your area. Perhaps you..."  
"It's not my area. I've never experienced...amorous feelings for any man...any woman...anybody before. I can't even say with any certainty that that is how I presently feel about you. If you wished to bind me up, whip me, shout insults, rape me... Well, that's my area."  
"Don't be crude."  
"I'm perfectly serious. I've never had the opportunity to feel any way towards another person before, save being fearful, angry, sad, hating them. It was only now, here, in this place that I've known safety, warmth, laughter. My childhood is like another life. It hardly counts." She registered the doubt in his face as she spoke. "And now...now you're telling me that I'm loved? You cannot deny me the suspicion that you pity me. You are aware how that revolts me. I do not wish to be pitied." She stood. "I wish to be left alone. And now, now you hand me this. What do I do with it?"  
Sherlock had been listening most intently.  
He cleared his throat. "You'll forgive any pretension I took when I acted a few moments ago. I felt...compelled. I do not, as a rule, succumb to feelings. In general, I abhor them, as they distract me from my work. As I said, many months before now, I do not pity you, & I wish you would stop assuming that I do. It was a leap I took..." He recalled John's words. "I suppose...it was...in error. I do not wish to keep you, if you feel you must leave. I have fallen, Inas. Once more. Yet I fear there is no Molly to save me now. In truth, I believe it's only you that can help, & you wish to run away. I shall not detain you any longer."


	9. Chapter 9

He stood. He wasn't going to stay here while she left. He wasn't a masochist. He began to move towards the door & reached for his coat.  
Inas felt empty as she watched him ready to leave. What had she done? All of these months now, living here. She had formed bonds like she had never known. She loved Mrs. Hudson. John. Mary. And Sherlock. He was, in truth, unlike anyone she had ever known. She knew that he was very different after he fell, when she met him. She knew that what he had just done, what he had just said, was something that never would have occurred before that event of paramount importance. What was at issue now, was, how Inas should interpret her own mind in the matter.  
She certainly cared for him. She hated to see him go. She understood him better than anyone, perhaps even John Watson. She was him, he was her. They had, collectively, denied, resisted, avoided any type of feeling beyond friendship. Even that was questionable. They were always flat mates.  
"Sherlock...wait."  
He stopped without turning.  
"I'm so...damaged. So...such a mess. I hardly know what to do. I can hardly believe that anyone should care for me, let alone what you...said. I have just discovered yet another, & hopefully final, horror in my epic saga that I desperately want just to end. I want only to divorce myself from everything remotely connected to my past. I wish to write. To sing. I want to forget everything that's happened to me. But look at me...these scars will never wholly fade. They are here, a constant reminder of all of the worlds evils on constant display for my review. How can I be expected to be anything but sad? Is that really what you want in a companion? Is that something you want in you life? And what of it didn't work? I cannot promise how I'll behave." She sighed. "But...in truth, I don't want to leave. I...don't want to think about where I'll go, or whom I'll meet. I would like, very much, to stay. I know I was just readying myself to leave. Forever. But it wasn't without sorrow, & a touch of regret."  
He turned now to face her. He looked into her grey eyes. Deep grey, like a thunderstorm. Her pale face.  
"Regret?" He wished further explanation.  
"Regret. Yes."  
"For?"  
"For letting you leave to tell Molly that you loved her. For nearly pushing you out of the door. For..." She stopped & looked into his icy blue eyes. "All this time, building up a wall between us in fear of letting myself feel anything but numb."  
"You needn't fear anything, Inas. You're safe. I'm going to save you."


	10. Chapter 10

The flat was full of laughter. Everyone was smiling, toasting, even Sherlock Holmes. John & Mary stood at the center of it all, she flashing her emerald engagement ring & beaming as much as it shimmered in the brightly lit sitting room. Inas was thrilled for the pair. She loved them both so very much, & could not be more happy than at that very moment.  
She glanced around the room as she went into the kitchen to see to the food. Greg & Molly, an unlikely couple, but somehow, it seemed to fit. Dear Mrs. Hudson. John & Mary. And Sherlock. He caught her gaze. Sipped his wine, grimaced a touch (he never really drank) & followed her.  
"Lovely, isn't it?" Inas was smiling deeply.  
"It is. Makes sense, I suppose. John wants to marry, settle. As does Mary. They are perfect for one another. Quite suitable."  
"Indeed, yes. A better match cannot be found."  
"Molly & Lestrade appear happy in domestic bliss. As ridiculous as it appeared, I believe they are well suited."  
"Quite right. Are you done your reflections on our guests? Or have you more to comment on?"  
Inas was popping open some champagne & signaling Sherlock to pour out the glasses.  
"Just one."  
"One more?"  
"Yes."  
"Can I bear the sap? It's knee deep in here already."  
"Surely you can withstand a tad more. I think that we are a handsome couple."  
"Ugh. Yuck. Couple, Sherlock?"  
"Well, domestic partners? Is that less personal?"  
"Never thought I'd be reigning in the sentiment in this relationship. Yes. We are, I suppose."  
"I am not sentimental. I demand you take that back at once."  
She stopped tidying up, & walked over to him. She slipped her hands around his neck.  
"I'll do nothing of the sort," she whispered in his ear. "You'll need to get it from me later. By force, if need be."  
Sherlock smiled at the thought. "If you insist..."  
"Erm...hello? Didn't someone say something about champagne? I hate to interrupt, but we are all quite thirsty..." John was just in the kitchen doorway.  
"Really John. Can you be more tiresome? Inas & I were having a moment."  
"I believe you have plenty of moments. All the time. All over the place. Can this be mine & Mary's moment?"  
John left the kitchen & went over to Mary. "Sometimes it freaks me out."  
"What does, love?"  
"Them. Sometimes, it's like, I dunno. Seeing double. They're so alike. They talk alike, walk alike. Makes sense, I suppose. Sherlock Holmes was always in love with himself."  
Sherlock & Inas brought in the champagne. They toasted the couple once more, and the evening ended with a duet of a violin & viola.

THE END


End file.
